Red Tide
by SonOfASubmariner
Summary: Historical based AU. Alternia has been at war with Earth for two sweeps now, and the trolls have grown weary of the Condesce's rule. They revolt, and attempt to start a new society, one where blood is blood. But it just isn't that simple. All the Pre-Scratch trolls featured, swapping perspectives each chapter. Some replace historical figures. And yes, there will be blood.
1. Chapter 1: Spark

RED TIDE: Chapter 1 - Spark

Alternia: The Capital City of Fuchsiaburg, Lowblood District.

7th Night of the 3nd Perigee. Two sweeps into the war with Earth.

Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you are attending a funeral. Or, corpse party, as one might call it. It is a very private one; only one other is present, your close friend Aradia. You've been friends since you were just five sweeps, and were still playing FLARP games in the street. The funeral is because your lusus died the other night. He had been sick for weeks, and you haven't been making enough to feed him properly. It's a small grave, just a mound of dirt and a rock on top, in an empty lot you're absolutely sure no one gives a damn about. Written in brown chalk, there's a simple, solemn statement. "Here lies Tinkerbull Nitram." You're in your workmen's clothes, hat in hand. It's these , a job, and a corner in a cramped apartment that are all you have to your name. Everything is dark, and the air is silent. A little too silent. You aren't crying though. You haven't got the right to. Aradia's has been dead far longer, and she's been working at the same job.

Speaking of your job, you have tonight off. And tomorrow. You had yesterday off as well. The factory shortened your hours. They've shortened everyone's hours in an honestly pathetic attempt to compensate for the unemployment. All it's really done is cut everyone's pay to the point that the grub lines have all run short, and lusii have been dying off left and right ever since the war started and food and medicine started to run out.

Of course, nothing's been cut from the Highbloods. Not even a war as devastating as the one going on now could bring them to make sacrifices for the greater good of Alternia. That seems to be all the Condesce and the whole damn aristocracy seems to care about: conquest, glory, showing face, it's all . . .

"Calm down"

She can tell you're getting worked up about this, since you were blatantly glaring at the grave. It isn't like you to feel this way. But somehow, this just feels wrong. Not because it's happening to you, it's happening to everyone around you.

That's when the noise started.

It began as a low rumbling, but soon the sounds of pans clanging and people shouting became audible. You couldn't discern a single voice from another, until you heard one shrill cry stand out,

"Death to the Tyrians! Life to Alternia!"

You glance each other confused expressions. The suspected crowd approaching becomes visible. They're Lowbloods and Midbloods alike , some of them in workclothes, some in suits, some in downright rags. They're furious, and it doesn't take long before a young troll, no way she's more than four sweeps, looks at you two excitedly, running up.

"The factories! They've shut it down, all of them down! No more work! All the pay, the grub, gone! And we'll make the Royals know the beasts they've dared to awaken!"

She scurries off with a massive grin on her face, obviously a lususless runaway of some sort, running rancid with the mob. You look to Aradia, and she nods. It's not like anyone's got anything left to lose with all that's happened. You start off to join the mob in their procession, marching along staying silent, and she follows shortly after.

The crowd moves towards the city's center at a quick pace, but gradually starts to slow down. Then you realize where you're headed. The Royal Palace. The vast mob has panned out in front of the great abode that houses the rulers you and all the people around you have come to realize are your oppressors and torturers. Standards are raised, and some are even holding up crude, blunt weapons with which to assault any Highblood they see. It's a wild spectacle.

The perimeter of the palace has been barricaded, a long line of stone-faced soldiers, armed with rifles and from across the hemospectrum from the looks of it. They stand at attention before their commanding officer, a purple blood mounted on a hoofbeast, holding his curved saber down as he patrols up and down his lined up troops, gazing across the barricades in front of him for any breaking in them. He pulls out a megaphone and attempts to speak over the loud cries.

"Return to your homes! Her Imperious Condescension understands your plight, and she is desperately searching for a solution to all of your . . ."

His words infuriate you to the point where you're deaf to them. That's when Aradia says loud enough for you to hear above the people, but not anyone else.

"Think it's high time Team Charge shut him up?"

She draws the stone used for Tinkerbull's grave out of her coat, and you nod. You know just how to handle this.

In the midst of the purple blood's rhetoric, his hoofbeast goes berserk under your command, bucking him off and running off. As he tries to stand, he raises his hand to quell his soldiers' fear, to hold their fire and that he's okay. But before he can even stand, he's struck in the head by a rock telekinetically flung from the crowd. A rock that still has brown chalk writing on it. He crumples back to the ground. Dead. The soldiers panic, raising their rifles, discharging them mere seconds afterwards.

You two are already out of there by the time they go off. Others weren't so lucky.

_Feferi and Eridan in next chapter.  
_


	2. Chapter 2: Storm

RED TIDE: Chapter 2 - Storm

Alternia: The Capital City of Fuchsiaburg, The Royal Palace.

15th Night of the 3rd Perigee.

Your name is Feferi Peixes, and you've had trouble sleeping recently. The noise outside beckons at night, and even during the day sometimes; they've found ways to shade themselves in order to stay out protesting. You take a gander out the window of your (rather lavish) respiteblock, and sure enough, there they are.

There are easily thousands of them, chanting and angry. Thankfully, they're not nearly close enough for you to be able to see the expressions on their faces. The Condesce ordered the troops to stop occupying the area in front of the gates, saying they would only aggravate the people even more. You're honestly a little scared by all of this. But it's alright. You, she, and the rest of the royal court will be leaving for the sea to be near Gl'ybgolyb tomorrow. It'll be much safer there. You're dressed in normal attire, nothing too showy, just as a personal precaution. As of now, you're packing up to leave. Well, sort of. Your servant calls over and you look at him. He's wearing his usual glasses, dressed in drab clothes he's required to wear to make everyone else look brighter, wealthier, and more cheerful. The clothes aren't really necessary to make him seem dreary. Though, you think he's kindhearted. Everything appears to be in order.

"There. It'th all done."

"Thank you, Sollux. You can go for the night."

He whispers, "Fucking finally." as he saunters out, head down. Because of this, he bumps into someone trying to walk in. A fed up, deadpanning voice speaks.

"Wwatch wwhat you say AND wwhere you're goin', Lowwblood."

Sollux looks up at him, snorts, and brushes past him with a "Whatever."

There's a short pause until the servant is gone. He closes the door and points in the direction Sollux went accusingly.

"See, Fef? This is exactly wwhat I'vve been tryin' to get across to you."

"Eridan."

"These damn Lowwbloods don't knoww the first thing about respectin' authority, or anyone for that matter."

"Eridan."

"That's wwhy they're out there right noww. Fuck, you wwould a thought they'd remember all the glory the Condesce's brought to Alternia, instead a just blamin' her for tryin' to claim another planet full a scum that they're probably wworth less any-"

"ERIDAN."

"Wwhat?"

"Stop. Please."

"I'm just sayin'."

Eridan Ampora is possibly the snidest troll in the whole court, maybe even Alternia, though you need to consider your own ancestor, and he's barely your own age, a mere ten sweeps. He's dressed in his typical cape, scarf, oversized frames, and "wizard's" clothes. It'd be a pain to make him where anything else. He lives here because he is the descendant of Orphaner Dualscar, one of The Condesce's old subjects who died mysteriously long ago. He was said to possess the power many consider to be fake, that is, "magic". Eridan does not believe he is capable of his ancestor's supposed gift, and honestly neither does anyone else. But The Condesce has kept him here, along with his lusus, just in case he may actually have mystic capabilities. He's also your moirail. Unfortunately. You sigh.

"Eridan, did you ever consider that maybe they're kind of right?" You glance back out the window at the mob, still flowing around like an angry ocean.

He groans and speaks lower now. "Okay, betwween you an me, Fef, The Condesce 's become a bit of a wwhack job. Especially considerin' the wwar. She may be right in tryin' to claim more territory, but if it means havvin' to listen to this racket day an night, count me out!"

You look at him a bit surprised.

"That doesn't mean I'm sidin' wwith them. I just say she should wweigh her options better, and they should livve and let livve."

"No, I agree with you. Just a little surprised to hear some sympathy coming from you." You look back out again. All these people have been screaming bloody murder, some of it even directed at you. You know it's not true, but you can't escape the feeling that at least some of this is your fault. "Why can't they be happy? Or, anybody for that matter."

He shakes his head and steps forward, placing his overtly ringed hand on your shoulder. "Fef, no one on this planet is evver really happy. Now, I came in here to tell you that it's time to . . . time to . . ." He's distracted by the window behind you. "Wwhat the hell . . ."

You turn around and peer out again.

The front gate to the palace is being scaled by a lone troll, who, once on the other side, drops down and turns back towards the gate. The crowd begins to quiet in awe. Suddenly, he pulls out a pair of loppers, and uses them to cut open the chains that adorn the massive metal door. In an instant, they fly open, and the sea of grey heads topped with horns floods into the courtyard, straight towards the front door.

"It's time to go! Transportation's allready!"

He quickly grabs the nearest suitcase, motioning for you to do the same. You comply, only nabbing up the essentials, but just as you both dash for the door, and open it, your path is blocked. Sollux is standing there, poker faced, and he glances to you both.

"Sollux! Please move, we have to get out of here!"

"Get your mustard ass OUT of the wway! Vvery soon they'll break dowwn the door!"

Sollux smirks and pulls a ring of keys out from behind his back.

"I don't think they need any more help with the door, Mr. Ampora."

As he was saying this, yelling and shrieks could be heard below, and within seconds, there were dozens of trolls rushing up the stairs, each one of them holding a rifle with a long, sinister bayonet on the end. Sollux stepped to the side, and six of them burst through, forming a crude line in the room and aiming straight at the two of them. Half of them were wearing military uniforms, only the insignias of The Condesce had been torn off. You and Eridan instinctively back up and raised your hands.

"Captor, you shitless, scumblooded traitor!" Eridan cries out in frustration.

"What even IS all this, Sollux?" You look to him, Eridan, then back to him, confused and unsure of what's about to happen.

Sollux wedges himself between the line, which is unfazed and still in its position. He pushes up his glasses, sticks his nose in the air, and makes a mocking "ahem", pulling a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it and reading from it aloud. All the while, shots are ringing out throughout the palace, and Gog knows who's cries are being made.

"Feferi Peixes and Eridan Ampora. You are both hereby under arretht on behalf of the people of Alternia, for colluthion in crimeth implemented by The Condethe herthelf, and for maintaining a lifethtyle which mockth the wellbeing of all trollkind." He lowers the paper and looks at you both.

"That's a load a shit! These charges are preposterous! Givve me that paper!" Eridan strode right up to Sollux, ignoring the rifles for now and giving a confident expression.

"No, don't!" You're too late.

Eridan snatches the paper right out of Sollux's hand, and upon adjusting his glasses, stumbles to make words.

"You . . . this is . . ."

He's cut off by a rifle's butt to the face, knocking him back, scarring his right cheek badly as it starts to bleed out violet. The paper fell out of his hand, and it falls to the ground, revealing that both sides of it were completely blank.

The soldiers close in on you, telling you both to move, despite Eridan clutching his face still and you trying to get a better look at how bad it is. Until, that is, one of them brings her bayonet mere inches from your face.

"Move."

Sollux left in the commotion, and now you are both walking out of the room. For the time being, you are now prisoners within your own palace.

_Kanaya in next chapter._


	3. Chapter 3: Stilts

RED TIDE: Chapter 3 – Stilts

Alternia: The Capital City of Fuchsiaburg.

16th Night of the 3rd Perigee

Your name is Kanaya Maryam, and you are not entirely sure how you feel about all of this. Somewhere between gratefully honored and utterly terrified.

Tonight, the Tyrian Dynasty comes to an end. It has ruled Alternia for millennia, and there is little to no history of what life was like before it, meaning, that all of troll society has been flipped over on its backside, its limbs writhing furiously. And, in a decision based upon two simple facts, you have been appointed by the revolt's leaders to be the new ruler of Alternia, under the title of Grand Duchess.

These two simple facts are, firstly, that you are a jadeblood. Someone right in the smack dab middle of the hemospectrum, meaning that you will be respected at least somewhat by both Highbloods and Lowbloods. Secondly, it is because you are the only troll on the whole planet who isn't an aristocrat and knows how to handle a mother grub lusus. This would be because you were raised by one, and in turn, have cared for one.

You are still greatly unnerved by recent events. As a rare jadeblood, you have been registered with the state for as long as you can remember. Despite the fact you've made your living as a meager local seamstress, people have flocked to place you in a position of authority. You're starting to consider they have you here because they're too scared to be called for the monumental task. Or maybe too wise. Who can know?

You're in a dull green dress for the somber occasion that awaits you, and are guarded by even duller looking escorts, flanking you in this cramped armored vehicle. The car parks and the guards exit first, eying the perimeter before kindly asking you to step out. You thank them, and land your feet on the front courtyard of the Royal Palace.

You used to admire this building, not necessarily for its residence but more-so for its beauty. Now, it's been completely ransacked. Windows have been shattered, walls have been scorched and torn at, and the ground around it is littered with effigies torn down from rooftops and furniture hurled out of second and third story windows. They flank you on all sides as you ascend the old marble steps to the door which is then held open by them as well. All this treatment and security is far more unnerving than it is comforting.

The interior of the great abode is an even greater eyesore. Wallpapers shredded, floors covered in muck, and some of the corners and walls have faint blood splatters on them. They're almost all shades of indigo, purple, and violet. Yet not a single drop of fuchsia is seen. You walk briskly through the hallways, not wanting to see any of this, and follow the soldiers through the foyer, towards what was once the royal dining hall. Armed revolutionaries, each with a crude brown armband signifying their new allegiance against the Tyrians dot the entire building, nodding and acknowledging you as you pass by.

Entering the room, you're surprised at how few of the court are actually present. There are only a handful of purples and indigos, and only three seadwellers in all. Two of them can't be much younger than you are, the one fuchsia you recognize from a portrait as Princess Feferi, who now stares at the ground, not even noticing you entering, and the other is just an oddly dressed troll, who's glaring intently at the one young man with the bifurcated glasses who stands in front of the middle of the table, holding his hands behind his back in an official posture. He bows and you instinctively do the same, and he steps aside to reveal someone all of Alternia can recognize, and could never be called to forget.

Her Imperious Condescension sits in a simple wooden chair before a long table with an ordinary piece of paper in front of her. Her extensive locks still manage to flow behind her, but she is in no way dressed lavishly for this occasion, aside from her crown. There are guards all around her, holding rifles at attention. She has her elbows on the table, a hand holding her head up, and she looks at you in the most unpleasant of ways. You are offered a seat at a matching chair, and you take it, scooting in. You bring the paper closer so that you may read it, and as you do so, the man in the glasses places a black pen on the table. The paper reads:

"From this night forward, all power invested within Her Imperious Condescension, Meenah Peixes, as well as her posterity and associates, are absolved, removed, and rendered null and void. Authority over Alternia will be passed over upon the signing of this document to Grand Duchess Kanaya Maryam, as the goodwill of trollkind sees fit."

There are two signature spaces at the bottom. You look around at everyone, wondering if there's really anyway out of this. Then you look back at The Condesce, who just waves her hand and whispers,

"Just do it."

You nod, click the pen open, and slowly sign your name. You place the paper and pen back on the table, and the bifurcated troll slides both of them across the table to The Condesce grimly. She sighs and signs her name onto it sloppily, then slams the pen on the table and leans back in her chair with a huff. As the young man raises the document high for all to see, contented applause resonates throughout the room, and two soldiers come to the former empress's sides. They each gently reach for a side of her crown and lift it from her head. Once they do, tears well up in her eyes, and she brings her hands to her face, refusing to outright cry in front of all these people.

The crown is handed to you, and you thank them for it. The bifurcated troll nods, and you do just as you had rehearsed.

You snap it in half with your bare hands.

_Karkat, Nepeta, Terezi, and Gamzee in next chapter._


	4. Chapter 4: Showtime

RED TIDE: Chapter 4 – Showtime

The Pink Moon of Alternia: 2nd Floor of Faygo Corp.

17th Night of the 3rd Perigee

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you hate your night job. Not only do you have to work as a paper pusher in a cramped cubicle, but for a company as reviled and hated as Faygo Corp. This whole building reeks of sugar, chemicals, and worst of all: ignorant greed. The putridness of its products is only matched by the guile of its owners. And yet, it is this establishment that you work for at the current time. Though, it is not the reason you live, far from it.

More or less, you have been the ringleader of a secret society since you were only six sweeps old. A society dedicated to the propagation of your ancestor's work. However, that society has been mostly dormant for the last two sweeps. You decided it would be best for you to go off-planet ever since your eyes started to fill in. It was a precautionary measure to ensure you weren't culled for having mutated red blood. Out here, nobody asks a whole lot of questions. You swear to your peers that you're a limeblood, and have worn a pair of near opaque shades and ignored people as much as possible to try and keep them off your trail.

You glance up at the clock on the wall. Oh yeah, that's right. You just started working, dumbass. No fleeing back to your hive to sulk yet. Stacking some more papers on your left, you turn back to your right and glance down the hall of cubicles and see a young woman searching around frantically for something. That something just happens to be you, because once she sees you she runs hurriedly towards you, only to trip and fall right in front of your desk, to which she jumps back up, highly energetic.

"Karkat!" She sounds overly excited and she's pumping her fists in the air as the classic gesture for news, but she tries desperately to keep her voice to a whisper.

You roll your eyes, not like she can see them though. "What is it, Nepeta?"

"It . . .it happened! It finally happened!" She's clearly too worked up to make sense.

"So, you got a package? I got a package? Details, Nepeta, fucking details. Those are what I need here." You really don't have time for this.

"A revolt! A coup! The Condesce dethroned!"

You freeze. Whatever you were doing before can go fuck itself.

"Does this mean . . ."

"It means efurrything." She's smiling wide.

You peek around her to see everyone is staring at the two of you.

"What? Don't you all have better ways to waste time than stare at us?"

They decide it's just you in another one of your moods and decide to get back to wasting their time in better ways. You scramble through your desk for your resume and a certain book, standing up to march yourself to your bosses office to turn in, all while Nepeta tags along cheerily.

Before you know it you're sitting on a shuttle Alternia bound, neglecting to visit the shithole you previously called your hive. You look back over the book in your hands. The cover is a drab grey, with a faded red insignia in the middle, featuring two circles with arches reaching towards each other. Virtually all trolls have some sort of heirloom left behind by their ancestor for them to claim. Yours is simple, yet you believe it to be the most powerful of all. This book was written by The Signless himself centuries ago. You have kept it nearby all your life. Inside are all of his teachings and prose. You've dubbed it, "The Guide"

The Signless is an almost completely forgotten page of history. He spoke out against the Tyrians long ago, preaching that all trolls were equal, and deserved to be treated fairly despite the hemospectrum. He was executed for it. Locked away within these pages are words some of the society's members have said to be magic. One in particular claimed 'miracles' but everyone tended to disregard him. You guess you could say it's a special sort of magic, since they seem to spellbind and captivate trolls everywhere. Except for maybe some Highbloods. Your moirail seems to be the exception. Nepeta said he and another of your accomplices would be awaiting you at the station. You look over at her. She's almost bouncing up and down in her seat on the other side of the shuttle. Nepeta's always been a fanatic for the cause you fight for, and with hers and a few others help, you intend to make your shared dream real. Back when you were six, your little group had decided that if the impossible really did happen, then you would become leader of the movement, and in the end, maybe even Alternia. You guess now's that opportunity.

The shuttle lands and you ditch the shades, knowing they're not needed anymore. You walk out onto the landing platform, and sure enough, there they are, fully decked out in their uniforms. Nepeta's out the door even before you are. You walk out and see them grinning ear to ear, and you can't help but smile a little back. You offer your hand to shake to one.

"Gamzee."

He ignores your hand and gives you an oversized hug.

"Good seeing ya again, Karkat."

You reluctantly hug back. Your own moirail still manages to set you off somewhat.

Turning, you address your other friend.

"Terezi."

She actually grabs your hand, but instead of shaking it, she reaches over and gives your cheek a quick peck, smirking at you.

"We've missed you, Karkat."

You take a step back from the two of them, slightly annoyed at their unconventional greeting methods, especially in a serious situation such as this.

"So, I hear things have changed around here."

"Yup." Gamzee looks serious now.

"But they haven't been changed quite enough yet." Terezi chimes in, giggling to herself.

You nod and they lead you onward, clutching The Guide as you move.

_Equius in next chapter._


	5. Chapter 5: Stalemate

RED TIDE: Chapter 5 – Stalemate

Earth's Moon: Earth's 4th Military Division Lunar Headquarters

17th Night of the 3rd Perigee (Approximately)

Your name is Equius Zahhak, and you are currently negotiating terms with the most vile scum of the universe. Humans. Well, you're less so negotiating with them as you have been engaging it what one might call a one sided staring contest at this point. This human's choice in eyewear is particularly dissatisfying; large square frames that aren't even shaded. As one of Alternia's generals, it is your strict responsibility to ensure that diplomatic relat-

Oh who are you kidding? You're sitting here, waiting for news from Fuchsiaburg so that you can actually get these talks underway. The only real reason you're here and not a single other general is because the Highblood generals told you to, since they knew you wouldn't say no.

The table you're at is simple, and there are guards behind you, and guards for the "emissary" behind him. He's sitting there, a set of cards with quadrant symbols on them, placing them on top of each other in different columns in a red-black pattern. At one point he stops moving them, looking over the cards repeatedly, as if for a way out. Then he shrugs and looks at you, trying to look cheerful in the face of your scowl.

"Wanna pla-"

"Absolutely not."

" . . . Okay."

He gathers the cards, shuffling them up and laying them back out in the same format, starting all over again. You tap your finger on the table impatiently. Well, when you say tap you mean pound. The movement practically makes the whole table rumble. This whole situation is ridiculous. You've been leading Alternia's finest against this scum for sweeps now, and just because there have been a few riots in the capital, all these gains have to be put on hold? You glance at the clock on the side wall. The "talks" have been going on for about an hour now, and still no sign. That's when another full uniformed officer walks in, saluting to you and holding out a small not to read aloud to you as you turn to face him.

"General Zahhak: The Condesce has been officially deposed."

"What?!" You grip the edges of your chair forcefully, glaring at him, teeth gritted. The human grins behind you.

"Finally, the Batterwitch is over with. Does this mean tha-"

"Silence!" You pound the table behind you, making the whole piece of furniture bouncing about an inch off the ground, sending his cards flying into the air. He scrambles to pick them all up, and you just keep listening.

"Grand Duchess Maryam has made explicit orders to end all hostilities towards Earth, whatever the cost."

You turn back around and sigh, speaking slowly for him to understand, "It means I can leave now. Consider this war over; our troops will be on their way back."

"Not so fast. We haven't discussed any terms yet, Mr. Zahhak." He makes a purely idiotic smile at you and you snarl back at him.

"Terms?"

"You just gotta play me in one quick game of Spades, that's all."

". . . Very well."

You bite the bullet and indulge this worthless human in his stupid card game. You lose, predictably, either because he had rigged the deck or he hadn't explained the rules properly. Or maybe you just really suck at betting. That's a possibility you don't feel like considering.

Afterwards, the guards lead you back to the ship. You make the announcement to all the troops stationed under your command that they should all be glad to know that they can all go home now, but that they should be saddened due to the circumstances under which the retreat has been ordered. The response from them was far from solemn, though. When they heard about The Condesce, a few of them coughed and fidgeted. But you swear, once you had left, you could hear faint cheering emanating through the halls.

You find yourself in your respiteblock, trying to get some work done, and finding out a little more about what's happened, when the same messenger from before enters, bowing per usual to you, as a Lowblood should.

"Sir, you have new orders directly from the top."

He hands you a letter and walks out quickly. He's been around you long enough to know you don't like him.

The letter reads:

"Dear Mr. Zahhak:"

"Your contribution and sacrifice for Alternia is both recognized and appreciated. Though, both I and the people of our nation feel that this war is no longer necessary, that our empire has expanded far enough, and that we now must focus on more domestic issues. Change has come to Alternia, but it is still your home as well as mine. I bid you good luck on your new assignment: The handling and maintenance of Gl'ybgolyb. As you know, she is very dangerous, and no one quite knows what to do with her. I am giving you this assignment, since many of my constituents refused to allow anyone with either a lower rank or a higher color to oversee the task. In these dark times, I have to place my trust in those I do not quite know. Thank you."

It is signed below:

"Grand Duchess Kanaya Maryam"

You appreciate the kindness. What you do not appreciate is the reassignment. Or the shakiness of this new world you're going to be living in.

_Vriska in next chapter._


	6. Chapter 6: Sermon

RED TIDE: Chapter 6 – Sermon

Alternia: The Capital City of Fuchsiaburg, Lowblood District

8th Night of the 8th Perigee

Your name is Aradia Megido, and you are once again being dragged into what could easily turn out to be a terrible decision. Looking on the bright side though, the worst of occurrences often make for the best stories told afterwards. It's this kind of world view that helps keep your spirits up.

Winter has come early this year. Not that you mind the cold weather, it's just that it means the harvest had to end early this year, and now people are getting hungry. The streets are filled with trolls and lusii of all kinds, filing in and out of the winding streets of the city. You and Tavros are not here out of want, but of need. The situation in the slums may have gotten rowdy in the months since the revolution, (though you both refuse to think that it was possibly your fault) but that doesn't mean the living situation got better. Nothing's really changed. The war ending's positives have been nullified by the still ever present shortages. So, eventually your meager savings dried up, and your forced to go to . . . _her_ hat-in-hand for a place to stay.

They say Vriska Serket was trained by the best, but raised by the worst, and that her lusus still roams the wilderness of the planet, devouring anything unlucky enough to fall into her web. Of course, most people will believe that spiel, because it's probably true. She used to have a red thing for Tavros, which you really don't want to think about or even try to understand. Either way, she somehow owes a debt to him. Tonight, she gets to repay it, at least temporarily.

As he knocks on the door, you're still a little unsure. Tavros has a bad habit of trusting people too readily. Or maybe you're just being a little too judgmental; after all, you could both easily be blamed for what happened about five perigees ago. And whether that was good or bad can still be debated, like you had said earlier, things haven't changed much.

Tavros knocked on her door. Her hive in the apartment complex was surprisingly small for someone of both her color and wealth, but she kept it that way to not attract attention. He also said something about how she used to live in an oversized hive that she felt lonely in. Almost makes someone feel sorry for a privileged murderer. Not.

She answers the door, failing to consider who it might be. For a professional criminal she sure isn't too bright. Then again, you don't know much about crime, despite your upbringing. Her face is ecstatic when she sees it's you two, talking in that drawn out tone she just likes to hear herself use.

"Well, if it isn't my faaaaaaaavorite trolls! Toreadumbass and Megido." Her smile drops immediately. "What do you want? Can't you tell I'm trying to lay low here?" Despite her caste, she lived in the Lowblood district in order to not attract attention.

"N-not, really." Tavros stuttered.

"If you are, you're doing a terrible job at it." You say with a smirk.

"Cut to the chase" Her patience is completely gone in approximately half a second.

"We, uh, need a place to stay, f-for now." He smiled at her awkwardly.

Vriska just rolled her eyes, er, eye. She had lost one and an arm in a fight she still refuses to talk about. She sighed, moved out of the doorway, and gestured into her place. "What's mine is sure to stay mine and will never be yours. I owe you, but not for my precious loot."

Honestly, her precious loot doesn't seem very precious. Most of her apartment is just plain rancid, with spider webs and used food containers dotting the whole place. Mounted up on her walls are . . . well what do you know? Weapons. Apparently, as Tavros told you, she seems to fancy herself an assassin these days, though, you think she just keeps these here mostly for show. Obviously, they're all real and very deadly, but you doubt she could ever find a use for all of them. There's simply too many.

She leads the two of you to a small room with a large blinded window by it overlooking the street corner, with all its people and vendors still bustling around in mid-night. She raises the dusty, unused blinds in an assumed attempt to make you feel more comfortable. It doesn't make a difference to you, and you're pretty sure Tavros couldn't give less of a damn. But you sit down at her dirty little round table with her.

"Soooooooo, what happened? With all this 'revolution' bullshit, everybody seems to be getting their heads lost in their asses."

"Well, about that . . ." Tavros began.

She gave a faux surprised expression. "Oh GOG, don't tell me you had anything to do with it all?"

"No, we didn't." You blurted out the words to get her off her case. Best not to open up that can of dirt noodles.

"We just, you know, need a place to stay? Until things settle down, that is."

She groaned and dramatically faceplanted onto the table, spreading her arms out on it. "Ugh, you guys can't be serious, can you?"

The two of you looked at each other, serious faced, then back to her and nodded.

"Fuck. Great. Just what we need around here, more assholes who think they're gonna set the 'world ablaze with the fires of revolt'. Makes me wanna brea-. . ."

As she said this, you regrettably remembered that Ms. Serket could read minds anyway, so she already knew what you two had caused. That's when she was interrupted by an incredibly loud and astute voice coming in from the street.

"WHAT ARE YOU ALL DOING?"

"Oh. Speaking of assholes . . ."

All three of you look out the window to see a troll standing in the street, a small crowd starting to form around him, growing larger. He is atop a makeshift wooden structure turned podium, and he wears a black suit, with a black tie, dotted in white. He adorns a ragged old cap on his head, his rather small horns barely poking out of it. The angry troll eyed the streets, glaring at the populace's surroundings, nostrils flaring. He looked oddly familiar to you, as if from a book.

"This city is NOT at peace with itself OR with the course of nature! It is still very much at WAR!" He pounded his fist on the podium.

The people gathering around mumbled amongst themselves, questioning his statements.

"And what is the course of nature, you may ask? It is this!" He held up a small book with a symbol on it that clicked in your mind. A story you thought you had forgotten became clear once more.

This was the return of the Signless. Long ago, the Signless preached that all of Alternian history was a tale of constant struggle between the Lowbloods and the Highbloods. He predicted that one day, this struggle would end with the Lowbloods being victorious, and a new society that placed Highbloods on the same level as Lowbloods would emerge, and through mutual effort and equality amongst all colors of the hemospectrum, Alternia would be launched into a new age of prosperity and understanding. His ideals did not hold well with the Highbloods, and he was regarded as a heretic, eventually being executed. The symbol on the book was the symbol of his movement.

"This society, the one we have now, is only the first step! The royals may be gone, but we are still slaves to the Highbloods! Is that not why the palace was stormed? Is that not why I stand here today, professing this to you? This 'provisional government' may have ended a mere battle on a faraway world, but they have only stalled the inevitable war! They do not truly represent our interests. Most of them are still gogdamn, lazy-ass, fish-hugging, Highbloods! Lowbloods started this revolution. Now I ask you, the people, where are the fruits of our labors? WHERE. IS. JUSTICE?"

The crowd became irate, and started demanding what they believed was now needed. Many of them still claimed to be hungry, others still hiveless. But the vast majority was simply thirsty for high blood. At this point, Vriska was audibly growling at the sight of this troll. He now removed his hat, clenching it in his fist, shaking it furiously.

"Maryam has denied us our newly entitled rights, and endorsed the Highbloods and their debauchery. She has promised us the idea of a democracy, but, where are the elections? Where are the Lowbloods on the council? I say to you, this night, that soon, all of Alternia shall know the truth! That as the Signless, my very own ancestor has foretold, we shall be freed of the shackles of blood, and engage ALL as brothers and sisters! Those who have placed themselves above us, above ANYBODY, shall feel the wrath of our just punishments!"

He slammed his hat down onto the podium, the people cheering and demanding to know who he was, and what his drove him here.

"I am Karkat Vantas. I am here because I am like you. I am here because I am a mutant! A candy red blooded outcast! And now I- no, WE have been shown an opportunity to overthrow the bindings of the hemospectrum! That . . . is why I am here. To free US!"

He began to step down from the podium, shouting out one last point.

"Now, let us not stay here! Let's go, move! We shall spread the word, together!"

The crowd became enamored with his speech, and reached out towards him, cheering him on. He waved to the crowd, refusing to smile towards them, and was instantly surrounded by his small entourage of three trolls who guarded him from the mob as he started to make his way along with them through the street. Eventually, the flood of trolls was out of sight.

"Well, glad that's over." Vriska simply put, trying to draw the attention back to herself.

You don't give her that attention, and remember that maybe your thesis was finally right. The worst of occurrences do make for the best stories. Though, whether this was a good or bad occurrence, you still don't know.

_And all the characters are now introduced._


	7. Chapter 7: Suckers

RED TIDE: Chapter 7 – Suckers

Alternia: The Capital City of Fuschiaburg, Imperial Court

27th Night of the 9th Perigee

Your name is Eridan Ampora and this is the most terrifying night of your life. Well, so far at least.

The Condesce's trial had been this morning. It was the fastest one you had ever seen. She was walked in, had a list of grievances and pieces of evidence read to her that she barely listened to, and before she could even try to make a simple argument for herself, she was gagged around the mouth as her sentence was read.

Death.

Okay, that wasn't all the sentence said, it had a bunch of legal red tape language in there too, but the point is she was executed moments later. It was not public. You saw her be escorted into a room, and a body-bag be led out. You don't intend on finding out how they do it. The whole experience was not saddening for you. You felt no real sympathy for her, only what she stood for. Rather, this has all made you come near soiling yourself on multiple occasions.

You are both standing on trial now. You, and Feferi. The outlook does not look good. Your trial is taking significantly longer, though you won't complain about that. At least it gives you more time. There are no real accusations against you, and neither of you have been granted a voice in this trial. There is no actual crime. They are deciding what is to be done with you. Well, mostly Feferi, since she's the heiress. But also you.

Before you are hundreds of trolls, all of them either looking at the two of you, or speaking amongst themselves. You can faintly recognize a couple, thus proving that the aristocracy and source of order around here isn't completely gone. Most of them have pleaded for your amnesty, and for once you feel like you may wind up indebted to someone who ought to be below you. But a great number of them are Lowbloods and Midbloods that glare daggers at the two of you. They have pleaded for you to be put to death as well for matters of security. So that the monarchy may never rise again.

None of this makes sense to you. Do they really think this new government can actually get things done? They've done jack shit, and honestly, if things were up to you, Feferi would be rightfully placed on the throne in a blood-pusher beat. Granted, if things really were up to you, they'd be a little different between the two of you. But now is certainly not the time to think about shit like that. Unless, of course, it's as a last confession.

As all of this malarkey shuffles through your head, the second to last scheduled testimony was being given. It wasn't any different from the others that wanted you dead, alongside what seemed to be the majority vote here, though you've been managing to cling to the slipping hope that that assumption is not true. Fef though, she seemed to have lost it the day you were arrested. She's barely talked since then, and you fear she may have already accepted the unthinkable, and that she's been waiting in slight mourning all this time. The long winded Lowblood finishes, and takes his seat back amongst the hundreds present. An introduction is delivered by . . . oh great, just who you didn't want to see today.

Sollux rises to the podium, his ridiculous lisp still ringing out of his mouth.

"And now prethenting, for our final word on thith hearing before cathting the vote, Grand Ducheth Maryam."

You might actually have a sliver of hope now. Maryam has been firm in preventing the abolishment of the aristocracy, though, she still believes neither of you are completely innocent. She enters from the side of the enormous courtroom and takes a stand. What she says next dumbfounds even you, but the crowd seems even more astounded.

"The votes for this trial are to be rendered invalid. I have found them innocent of true harm, and they are to be set free."

Halfway through, the people in the room start to speak amongst themselves, and by the end they are already shouting at her.

"You can't do that! This is a court!"

"What the hell is this, an autocracy?"

"How can you defend those cretins?!"

Maryam visibly tenses up, and you're grinding your teeth in fear, looking back to Fef. She still seems hollow and halfway dead.

"I am NOT about to have undeserving, royal blood on MY hands, during MY administration!"

"Oh, so would you rather have Lowblood on your hands, Duchess?"

"That's not what I . . ." She tried to defend herself, already sounding defeated.

"She's no better than what we got out of! The war's over, and there's STILL millions starving!"

"Fuck, at least The Condesce knew what she was doing!"

She looked upon the crowd with a disgusted glare at this open betrayal. As she tried to talk again, one troll in particular stood, dignified and serious looking, and bellowed above the rest.

"If you would be so kind, Miss Maryam, I believe I can settle this issue."

She nodded to him, and all others sank back to their seats under her glare, grumbling in resentment. The noticeably short troll moved to the front of the seated hundreds and looked back upon them.

"I have devised a plan that can please the people AND keep both ours and Miss Maryam's hands clean of anyone's blood. Though, one thing is certain. Neither of these Highbloods are guilty of any crime other than ignorance and vanity." He pointed at the stand that you both sat in. "I stand with her in that they should be free."

The crowd began to harshly whisper amongst itself, until he seemed to growl displeased and spoke over them again. "BUT, we must keep in mind that freedom comes at a cost." This doesn't sound good already, but just as you can churn out that thought, he turns to look directly at Fef.

"Miss Feferi Peixes." She raises her head slowly at the call of her name. "How many rubles do you believe you are worth?" That's when you snap. Before anyone can even give a response you slam your palms onto the table and stand, fins flaring out and giving this self-proclaimed problem solver a hateful grimace.

"Wwhat kind a fuckin' question is that? I'd say I'm wworth a million rubles, an' Fef's wworth at the vvery LEAST ten times that!"

You point to both of you as you say it, but you can hear Fef choke out weakly, "Eridan . . . please," but before she could continue she was interrupted yet again only this time by the same nubby horned, obviously a radical Pissblooded asshat. He doesn't sound too happy.

"THANK YOU, Mister Ampora. Your input is 'vvery' appreciated." A few sinister giggles are heard from all around.

You can't believe a Highblood like you is standing on trial in such utterly ridiculous circumstances, and being humiliated no less! You just want to kill everyone in here. Almost everyone. The crowd silences itself once Maryam speaks.

"So Mister . . ."

"Vantas, ma'am."

"So Mister Vantas, may I ask you what those prices are meant to entail? Surely you don't intend to sell them into slavery?" Everyone looks confused again, but you can make out a smug grin growing on this Mister Vantas, and you want your own two cents in before he can have another shot at pissing you off.

"Yeah! Howw the fuck can slavvery be a kind a freedom?"

Fef whispers harshly to you, never averting her still downward glance. "Shut UP."

You give her a bewildered look. How can she say that? This guy is proposing borderline treason here, and she's gonna tell YOU to shut up?

"Actually, one might find slavery preferable to what I am proposing." His eyebrows are raised, and he's giving you a devilish smirk.

No.

He turns to address the crowd once more. "Bounties, ladies and gentlemen. That is my proposal. This way they are set free at a price."

Hell no.

"Just as he said it. One million for him, and ten million for her. The money will come directly out of the sale of royal property."

Hell fucking no.

"They should be placed an hour after they are released." He turned back to glance at the two of you. "We shall let the people decide your fate."

Your entire body feels numb suddenly, and you fall back into your chair. You can already feel a cold sweat coming over you as just about everyone nods in agreement. Fef turns. She's grimacing at you, and can already see tears forming. But your attention is pulled back towards Maryam when she speaks.

"That is . . . purely barbaric! You can't turn a troll's life into some sort of sadistic game!"

"You're right. I can't. And neither can you. Only the people can truly decide. And what is their decision?"

The crowd's response is a unanimous roar.

"YES! Freedom at a price! Freedom at a price!"

The applause and cheering is near deafening in the sound amplifying room. Maryam looks upon them all shockingly, and dismisses them with a repulsed wave, and strides back out of the room, accompanied by none. The sound only grows louder once she leaves, and the guards behind you place you each back in those tight handcuffs. Vantas waves to the guards, and they haul you two away forcefully.

Now you know for sure that the fear in the nights to follow will eclipse anything you've experienced tonight.


	8. Chapter 8: Sayonara

RED TIDE: Chapter 8 – Sayonara

Alternia: Wastelands, beyond the River Aglov

29th Night of the 9th Perigee

Your name is Gamzee Makara and this is something you are actually pretty damn used to doing. By which you mean handling prisoners about to be tortured. You won't be the one doing any of the torturing, though. He gave you very strict orders not to.

Seadwellers are typically known for being accustomed to the warm waters of Alternia, so it would only be appropriate to set them loose where it isn't warm at all. The tundric wilderness would therefore be the perfect location to drop them off.

The two of them sit there in the back of the vehicle and are silent. Both have resorted to displaying the same blank, downward emotion on their faces. It would seem that they really have given up all hope. Or they are just scared completely shitless by you. That tends to happen a lot. You've spent the last couple sweeps as a Subjugglator, and you still adorn the customary paint worn by them, easily striking fear into others. During that time you performed duties you're not entirely proud of, however much of your work has been as sabotage. You have left, obviously, since your allegiance is placed somewhere other than to the highbloods or the ancient monarchy. Your moirail may have once been an outcast, but as these thoughts fly through your head he is being poised to become among the most famous trolls in Alternian history. Once these pests are disposed of, of course.

You can't help but wonder at how funny it's going to be watching them struggle to move in this weather. The purple snow that comes down on this planet is billowing now, covering everything in sight. Maybe you shouldn't even take the chains off them . . .? Nah, there's no fun in that.

You find a spot that's relatively open and finally stop. Getting out and opening the back door, you can't help but smile in anticipation at how entertaining the scene is going to be. You step back and outstretch your arm, motioning them out.

"Here you are."

They both look at your face and . . . nothing. They just stare at you like you've told a joke that's fallen flatter than an empty tire. Your smile fades quickly, replaced by a look of disappointment.

"Y'all motherfuckers gonna move, or are we gonna have to this the hard way?"

They both frown and file themselves out, standing with their heads down. They're definitely not dressed properly for this. Nothing more than shabby, lighter-caliber coats that don't stand a chance against the onslaught that is the cold. The higher one (technically highest) is already starting to shiver a bit. You whip out the key and undo her handcuffs, taking them off them and tossing them back in the vehicle.

You get to the second one, but just as you finish, the brat decides to spit on your hands. Your head raises at the same rate his does, your gazes meeting one another, despite the significant height difference present. He mutters a single word in stinging defiance:

"Traitor."

The word earns him one shove to the ground. He falls without a sound into the snow, having expected retaliation. His glasses had fallen off, but he quickly placed them back on. She doesn't even seem to notice. Just stands there and happens to glance when he falls, then looks back at the ground. You give him a threatening grimace and he stays where he is as you walk around him back to the vehicle. The falling snow should cover the tracks, so they wouldn't be able to follow you back, even if they were stupid enough to want to.

"Have fun, kids." You wave them off, slam all the back doors shut, and climb in, driving off in a hurry. You glance in the rear view mirror just for kicks. She turns around and kicks him in the side, causing him to stand up in fury, clutching his abdomen. They then proceed to have what seems to be a shouting match in the middle of the blizzard. A small chuckle escapes your throat and you only go faster, the two of them soon being out of sight. You wouldn't mind if you never saw either of them again.

Before daybreak, you're back in your apartment. Thankfully, the smell of the "substances" you've been using hasn't died yet, and keeps the air fresh and livable. As well as calming. That's important for you, too.

It's time to pay some due respects. Your best friend should come first, and of course, he does. You plop yourself down in the chair at your desk and pick up the phone, dialing his number lazily since the "scents" are having a bit of an effect already. It takes quite a while for him to pick up.

"I'm busy, so make it quick." Idle chatter can be heard through the line.

"Just calling to say the fish have been sent to market."

". . . Hold on." There's a pause and you can hear a door shut, the chatter stopping.

"The FUCK Gamzee?! I told them the job would've been done _yesternight_."

"They didn't spoil since yesternight, so I don't see a motherfucking problem."

"The problem is I really don't need idiots like you fucking up left and right! Now, I've been negotiating with the representatives and everybody's who actually IS anybody on this goddamn planet, and at the rate I'm setting, we'll have this place on the RIGHT fucking track for the first time since ever. But at the rate YOU'RE setting, you and I won't be getting shit, got me?"

You shake your head and sigh, talking a bit lower. "I'm real sorry, 'kay? Just trying to get my shit in order, you know?"

"Well you'd better hurry up with that, or we'll all be buried in our own shit real soon, you hear?"

"I hear you, I hear you. Want me to tell her?"

"Go right ahead, I doubt you've got anything more important to do."

"Bye, Karkat."

". . . Goodbye, Gamzee." He hangs up first.

You dial your other friend now. This probably won't go as well.

"Hello?" She sounds groggy and displeased with the very idea of talking.

"Hey, just wanted to say I got those two seadwe-"

"Gamzee, you're calling me this late to tell me this WHY?" She practically shrieks at you.

"Um, Karbro recommended?"

She sighs and you can practically see the eyeroll. "Fine. Whatever. They're gone now, and that's what's important."

"Sure you don't want to go aft-"

"I don't care about any stinking money! Now, I'm going back to 'coon, you smelly creep!" She hangs up.

Terezi really doesn't like you.

But, you don't think she despises you quite as much as the last call you'll be making before hitting the sopor. You open your desk drawer and read the number again; you got it just yesternight.

"Hey."

"So? Are they gone now?"

"Yeah. Good luck finding them, motherfucker."

"I don't intend on. They're more likely to find their way home, first."

"It would have to be a miracle, if you ask me."

"Well there better be a miracle. Speaking of those, how's all that with the taking over going?"

You pause and think. "Know what. I might be needing some help later down the line. Keep in touch."

"I'll do as I damn well please." The line cuts off.

That actually went better than expected.


	9. Chapter 9: Success

RED TIDE: Chapter 9 - Success

Alternia: The Capital City of Fuchsiaburg, Imperial Court

25th Night of the 10th Perigee

Your name is Sollux Captor and once again, nobody is getting anything done. These people are all bustling around outside your recently acquired office, blabbering about results, turnouts, and possibilities. Being among the Sufferer's followers never really seemed too big a deal to you, then again there isn't much on the list of things that ever managed to impress you. However, if what some of these part-time revolutionaries say is true, that list may need some revision.

"They say if he gets appointed, there'll be a counter-revolution. Maybe this is the end . . ."

"Some still want Maryam back, but that's just not going to work. Then again, I don't see how rule by this 'Sufferer' idea could be any better . . ."

"Ever occur to anyone that we should just give up trying? What if this is a sign for anarchy to happen? I mean, it's not like there really NEEDS to be somebody in cha-HURK . . . "

You smirk at the sound of somebody getting their opinion oh-so-kindly silenced. If this is to work, opposition needs to be minimal. You hate the idea of having to resort to the tactics of the old regime, but fuck it. This is only about getting _into_ power after all; it won't have to continue past that point. The deadline's today, so it should all be over soon. Not that you really care in the meantime, what with your feet up on this shitty, dusty old desk. Nobody else is writing reports or sending letters, so why should you be working?

You've worked for the last four sweeps or so as a servant to the very people who are now either imprisoned, dead, or soon to be one of the two. You must say, it felt good knowing they'd someday have to pay for their deeds, and even better when the act was carried out. You seem to have a knack for knowing when bad things are going to happen to people.

The announcement comes without warning, directly over the intercom. It's a comfortingly familiar voice on it.

"The consensus has been met. Will effury- I mean everyone purrlea- PLEASE file out of the building and towards the main square fur . . . (fuck it) any and all further announcements."

Must be good. She only talks like that when she's excited. The speaking amongst them began to subside as they followed the strict instructions, despite the fact that nobody was really forcing them to. Or was somebody? Oh well, this place gets awfully boring empty, you know that from yesterday's experiences. So you should probably get up like all the rest and follow suit. You hop from the seat despite its comfort, readjusting your posture for what's ahead.

Outside it's a straight up mess, and no longer a quiet one at that. Trolls in a mob swarm the square, taking up all the available space. The crowd has only grown louder, causing confusion to run amuck and making your frustration with this entire situation rise higher than before.

Suddenly a deafening screech rings through the crowd, bringing the hands of thousands of trolls to their hearing orifices in an instant to provide protection from the noisy blare. Some even crumpled to the ground. Maybe they thought it was the Vast Glub? Yes, that's it. They only _thought_ it was. It couldn't have actually happened, otherwise you'd already be dead, right?

In fact, the ceasing of the screech revealed its true purpose to the crowd. An announcer came on over what used to be the city's emergency PA system. You can't quite tell though if the problem with the voice is the age of the speaker, or the fact that the PA system had barely ever been used in its entire existence.

"People of Alternia." The voice beckoned slowly and sternly. "Direct your attention to the Imperial Court. Your representatives have given to you your newest leaders. Our trust will be placed upon them to guide us into a new age In trollkind's history."

It was then on the roof of the court that a tall figure stepped forward, his long hair and even longer horns revealing his identity. Your eyesight is far from perfect, but it isn't hard to imagine the smile on him.

"Gamzee Makara: Chief Commissar of the Police."

Both his arms extend to the sky as a sign of greeting. The crowd makes a hopeful cheer, brightened by his enthusiasm. Not long before they have a chance to quiet down, though, a more astute figure showed her presence on the roof, hands behind her back in a far more dignified manner.

"Terezi Pyrope: Chief Commissar of the Armed Forces."

She provides nothing more than a simple nod and a readjustment of her glasses, not allowing the obligatory volume produced by the mob to sway her into losing posture. The speaker next allows the masses to reach silence once again before making his final announcement, the short troll with the near invisibly small horns trudging into view of the audience.

"And, Karkat Vantas: First Premier of the new Alternia."

The people's exuberance is overwhelming, though he proves to give an underwhelming response. A flippant wave is all the crowd receives for their noises of gratitude before all three of the new leaders turned to re-enter from the hatch they had come onto the roof from.

You were hoping maybe one of them would be smart enough to have protection up there, and of course they didn't. At least they didn't stick around for speeches, that would've been a real bore. You'll have to address this blatant issue in the next meeting, but until then, you suppose it's best to just take the rest of the night off. Not like anyone's going to get anything done with so much excitement. Or so much uncertainty.


End file.
